


Holy

by tumblingthroughtime



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Guilty Dean Winchester, Homeless Castiel (Supernatural), Hopeful Ending, M/M, Pre-Castiel/Dean Winchester, Prostitute Castiel (Supernatural), Prostitution, Sad Castiel (Supernatural), Strong Castiel (Supernatural), please read this im pretty proud ngl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:20:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26431792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tumblingthroughtime/pseuds/tumblingthroughtime
Summary: Dean kicks Cas out of the bunker in season 9 and this is Cas learning to cope with being homeless.please read i tried so hard <3
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 13
Kudos: 80





	Holy

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to write a fic about this topic, where cas doesn't just forgive dean right away. because its unrealistic and definitely not what dean deserves
> 
> i wrote this in a day, i was just so inspired. i really really hope you enjoy!

_ Castiel.  _ He feels like a fraud calling himself that. That’s an angel’s name, and it doesn’t belong to him anymore.  _ Cas _ doesn’t belong to him either. That name was given to him by Dean, and he doubts Dean would want him to use it now. He doesn’t know what to call himself anymore. He doesn’t know who he  _ is _ anymore. He doesn’t know who he is without Sam and Dean. 

Dean made him leave. He’d like to say he understands, that it’s okay, that he doesn’t blame Dean, but he would be lying. He doesn’t understand at all, it’s definitely not okay and he does blame Dean a little bit. He’s not sure what he did wrong, what he did to deserve this. Is it because he has no grace left? Probably. All he’s ever been to Sam and Dean is useful, and he isn’t that anymore. He doesn’t know what he is anymore.

Well, of course he does, he’s human. He’s human and homeless. He’s human, homeless and hungry, with nothing to do but sit on the curb outside a Gas-N-Sip, feeling sorry for himself and watching the sun set over the factories. This strategy clearly isn’t getting himself anywhere. His stomach has been growling for the last hour, and he’s about to collapse from exhaustion. Two feelings completely new and terrifying to him. He hates himself right now. He’s hated himself for a while, but that’s no excuse.

He was an angel of the lord, and while he isn’t anymore, that doesn’t mean he can’t draw from the strength of having been one. He will not sit on a sidewalk, wallowing in self-hatred, and hatred for Dean. He will overcome this.  _ I have to. _

He gets up off the curb and walks into the Gas-N-Sip. He needs some food, and it’s not like Dean left him with nothing. He’s got $50, but he’s not sure how long that’ll last. He goes to the back of the store where they keep the sandwiches. He looks for the cheapest one, which looks like a 4 inch sub with one slice of ham and half a slice of cheese. But it’s only $3. Looks like it’ll have to do. 

He walks to the front of the store to pay and smiles at the woman behind the counter. She smiles warmly back at him, causing him to blush a little bit. At that moment, a thought occurs to him. Perhaps he can get a job? 

As he’s paying, he asks her if maybe he can apply for a job and she responds with something that hadn’t even occurred to him. “Well, you can fill out a form. Do you have any identification on you?” Any hope left in him evaporates in that moment. He has no ID, no papers, nothing. His shoulders slump and with the action, the lady’s smile grows from warm to pitiful. He hates it. 

“No, I’m afraid I don’t.” He puts the money on the counter, takes the sandwich and leaves the store. He unwraps the sandwich, angrily takes a bite and walks. He doesn’t stop walking for a while. His thoughts are spinning.

He doesn’t own anything. He has $46.38, very uncomfortable shoes, and clothes that belong to Dean, so they barely fit. He should throw them out. They aren’t his, nothing is his anymore. Maybe nothing ever was. 

As an angel, all he did was follow orders without question because that’s the way things are in heaven. But things are different on Earth; on Earth, there’s something called free will. He used to marvel at the idea, he looked up to Sam and Dean for being able to teach him the concept, but at this moment, he couldn’t hate them more for it. Free will is all well and good when you have a clear idea what you want. But all he wants right now is a hot meal and for Dean to tell him what to do.

His feet start to ache so he looks up, only to see that it’s now pitch black, except for the streetlights pouring orange light over the area. He also notices he finished his meagre sandwich and he’s holding the wrapper in his hands, all crinkled up. He knows how it feels. 

He looks around to try and get a feel for his surroundings. He has no idea how long he’s been walking, and he probably shouldn’t be out this late in this part of town. He should figure out what time it is and then find some place warm to sleep for the night. He supposes his troubles can wait for tomorrow. 

Decision made, he walks a bit longer until he finds a tiny little convenience store that would probably have a clock, or at least a clerk with a phone. He approaches the store, only to find out that it’s closed. He has a moment of anger where he thinks  _ If the store is closed, why are the lights on? _ Before thinking it’s just his luck.

He moves forward to rest on the curb in the parking lot because he just needs a moment's rest. He wishes he wasn’t constantly thinking, that his brain would just turn off and he could  _ just rest. _ But, as always, nothing goes the way he desires. His thoughts were spinning before he even realized what was happening and soon enough he was drowning in another sea.

He was a shotty angel and looks like he’s gonna be an even worse human. He has nowhere to live, nowhere to go, nothing to eat. This is awful. He wishes Dean had at least told him why. Throughout all his time with Dean, all he’s ever done has been for Dean, to keep him safe. And Dean kicks him out with no warning? Dean’s probably reveling in the fact that he isn’t there anymore, that the bunker is silent and rid of his stupid angel drama. 

The worst part is that, despite everything, he misses Dean. He misses him more than he thought he would. It’s like he’s missing his other half. There have been times where he questioned if his feelings for Dean went a little past platonic, but the thought that Dean might feel the same was so absurd, he never entertained the thought for long. Just like he’s doing now.

He wonders if Sam knows the reason he was kicked out. He misses Sam a lot too. Sam was always so kind to him, when Dean wasn’t. Sam always tried to understand and sympathize, it made him feel as though maybe he was important, worthy. Even if it had been a lie. 

He’s only been gone less than a day but he already feels the loneliness enclosing upon him. Having nobody to talk to, or even sit in silence with. Just the feeling of company, he’s missing it a lot. He supposes he’s gonna have to get used to it. He sighs and pulls his legs up to his chest, resting his chin on his knees. He leans against the wall and closes his eyes, feeling the heat of the night spread a blush on his cheeks.

His thoughts haven’t stopped singing since he got here, no matter how hard he tries to shut it off. His closed eyes are making it little easier to calm down though--

“Hey.” He jolts upright so quick, his back starts to hurt. Yet another thing that never would’ve bothered him as an angel. He probably even would have heard the person coming. He turns around and sees a girl, probably not above the age of 20, with black hair tied into a messy bun, a lot of makeup with a crop top and a short skirt. He thinks she looks rather beautiful, if not a little disheveled. “What are you doing here so late?” He wonders what time of night it actually is. 

“Um, I’m not quite sure, actually. I was just walking and ended up here.”

“Come on, nobody takes a walk in the middle of the night for no reason.” She starts to come closer to him but he doesn’t feel threatened so he stays put. 

“I suppose you’re correct. I have been walking for a long while, ever since my friend kicked me out.” He opens his palm and sees the crinkled wrapper from before. He starts playing with it, to dispel how awful that statement made him feel. 

“That sucks.” She comes to sit next to him, and this time he does move away a bit. She doesn’t seem to notice. “If it makes you feel any better, my parents kicked me out.”

“Why would that make me feel better?”

She laughs and moves closer. “I don’t know, actually. I guess that’s just what people say.”

He looks down at the wrapper in his hands, frowning. “Why do people do such horrible things?” he asks, very, very quietly.

He can sense she turns toward him a bit so he looks up to meet her eyes. “I don’t know. Wish I did, though. Would make the world a hell of a lot easier to live in.”

He nods in understanding while a comfortable silence overcomes them. He doesn’t want her to leave, she’s the first person he’s really interacted with in 24 (?) hours. He really doesn’t want her to go. “Um, why are you out this late?”

She laughs again, this time a little bitterly, “Are you kidding?” He shakes his head confusedly. “Oh, sweetie, I don't know how to break this to you.” He has a moment of panic where he thinks she might be a demon, angel, vampire, werewo-- “I’m a whore.”

His reaction is immediate. “Don’t call yourself that.”

Her grin matches the laugh from earlier, “Why not? It’s true.”

“Because it’s a word that’s designed to make people feel bad,” he says. “And nobody deserves to feel bad about themselves,” he adds in a whisper, looking back down at his wrapper, only to realize it isn’t there. He looks up sharply and sees it dancing in the parking lot, picked up by the wind. He feels an odd sort of loss, looking at it.

He spends a long time looking at it, until he’s certain it’s too far away for the human eye to see.  _ Human eye. _ It feels like a punch in the gut thinking that.

“What are you looking at?” He almost forgot she was sitting next to him.

“My wrapper flew away,” he says distantly, looking up to meet her eyes again.

She looks at him with an odd look on her face. He doesn’t think it's mean, though. “I think I like you… I don't think I got your name.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry, it’s C--”  _ Don’t lie.  _ “Um, no - no name.”

“O-kay. Well, my name is Sheri.” 

She extends her hand, intending for him to take it. “Are you telling the truth?” he asks as he shakes her hand.

She laughs again, and he thinks it’s a wonderful sound. “Not even a little bit.” He smiles with her, thinking he must be so lucky to have met this woman. “Hey, do you mind if I smoke?” He shakes his head. “Cool.” She fishes around in her pockets and pulls out a lighter and a cigarette. She lights it and he gets a whiff of the smoke coming off of it.  _ Oh, not a cigarette, then.  _ “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m being so rude. Want a hit?”

He looks at it curiously, before deciding he’s got nothing left to lose. He takes it out of her hands and puts it to his lips. He inhales, chokes, inhales again, lets it rest and after a while, decides he adores this feeling. He feels so free, like all his worries flew away. Heh, like the wrapper. For some reason, he finds this thought hilarious and starts to laugh hysterically. 

“Hey, you got a job yet?” Sheri asks out of nowhere. He shakes his head again and she says, “Wanna come with me to work tomorrow?” That sobers him up immediately. He hadn’t really thought about what he'd do for money. All other legitimate jobs require papers, which he doesn’t have, so he’s kind of stuck. He could try to find a homeless shelter, live off soup kitchens and scraps. But no, he doesn’t deserve that. He should save that for the people who actually need it, who haven’t almost ended the world because of their mistakes. 

This was a way he could eat, get new clothes, and make other people feel good in the process. He blames the weed a little bit, but he thinks it sounds like the perfect solution. He nods his head, gets up and follows her with his shoulders slumped as low as his expectations. 

* * *

It’s been two months since that night and now the weather’s warmer and he walks down the street, on his way to work. It’s pretty dark out but the summer heat just makes him enjoy it. Although, that could be because of the weed. He hasn’t ever gone to work without it, thanks to Sheri, and he’s honestly glad he hasn’t because he doesn’t think he’d be able to survive it. He’s been staying with her, in this tiny, little alley where she’s set up an entire mini-household for them. 

The people out here are brutal, caring only about themselves. He doesn’t quite mind but it might start to be getting to him a bit. He hasn’t heard a word from Dean, even though he hasn’t left Lebanon. Dean must not be looking for him. He thinks that should sting more than it does, but he’s gotten used to the thought. 

He arrives at his usual corner, next to a little convenience store, and waits. There are two other girls with him today. He hasn’t bothered to learn their names, although they seem nice. These two are usually here every two days; he isn’t sure if that’s because they go to different spots or because they’re well enough off they don’t need to work every night like he does. And boy, does he need to. 

Today, he’s wearing jeans that he bought when it was still cold out but he had to cut them into shorts because of the weather. They hug his ass just right, while also showing the proper amount of a thigh. He’s also wearing a tank top that shows off his arms. The weather has been scorching lately, so this outfit is very much improvised. 

He hears someone walking down the street and looks up. The guy stares at him for a second longer than he thinks is customary, so he shoots his shot. He throws a glance at the other girls as if to say  _ This one’s mine. _ “Hey handsome, looking for some company?” he asks with a seductive smile. 

“Yeah, actually. How much for a blowjob?”

“20.”

“And how much for a fuck?”

“100.” He usually charges less, but income has been low lately.

“That’s too much. Come with me, those lips look real good.” He rolls his eyes and follows.

That was so awful he doesn’t even want to remember it. Not to mention, it’s smelled like urine for about a week now, in that specific corner and he still has yet to figure out why. Oh my god, he hated that. He wants to tell Sheri, but thinks it’ll have to last until later. It’s not like it’s the worst thing someone’s ever done to him. Whatever. 

He’s back at his corner, waiting for another client. He desperately needs one, he’s been so short on cash lately. He’s thinking of changing spots, since nobody seems to come here anymore. 

He perks up when he hears a car approach, not thinking twice about the rumble of the engine, looking down as he moves closer. 

He’s perfected this move after a thousand times of performing it. He walks toward the car with his eyes lowered so he can look up through them and accentuate his pretty features. He leans through the window, does his trick and starts the mantra, “Hey handsome, looking for some comp--”

“Cas?”

He looks up so quickly at that name, said by that voice, he hurts his neck. He thinks he’s so shocked that he just says the first thing that comes to mind, “Well, there goes my hundred bucks.”

“Cas.”

“I have to go.” He turns around, intending to head back to the alley with Sheri but is stopped by a hand on his arm. It makes him stop his feet immediately because  _ Dean is touching his arm.  _ That hasn’t happened in so long, he hasn’t had a hand touch him in a manner that was not meant to hurt in so long, his brain short-circuits.

“Cas,” Dean says for the third time, and he recoils hard. He wants to say not to call him that, it’s not his name anymore, but that isn’t true. It’s Dean’s prerogative to call him that. After all, it belongs to Dean, doesn’t it? It always has. “What were you doing?”

He turns around so sharply, Dean stumbles back. “You know what I was doing.”

“Well, yeah, but… why?”

“Why? Why? Because there was nothing else to do. You left me with nothing. I had no ID, no papers, no social security number. I didn’t even have a pen. How did you expect me to make money?” 

“I…” Dean sounds so lost, it makes his heart break a little.

“Yeah. If you’ll let me go now?”

“No, Cas, wait.”

And in spite of himself, his heart swells with hope.  _ Let me come back. Please. I can’t do this anymore. Please, please, please.  _ “What,” he demands.

“Uh, we’ve - we’ve been looking for you.”

“Oh really? Could’ve fooled me.”  _ Please, please, please. _

“I know we haven’t been trying very hard, but we didn’t think you were in it this bad.”

“What did you think I was doing? Living in a top notch apartment with a fancy job and watching fucking soap operas?” Dean looks a little surprised at the use of the curse word. He can’t really blame him, he never used to curse before.

“I mean, kinda. Cas, look, man, you’re better than this.”

He scoffs, and starts walking again, because that is just ridiculous. Yes of course, he’s better than this, he used to be an angel of the  _ fucking lord _ . He has thought about that so many times while doing unspeakable acts to other humans, but that does not give Dean the right to act like he’s all high and fucking mighty. 

He’s about halfway down the street when he feels a hand on his arm again. “Cas, wait, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant, this is never what I wanted for you.”  _ Please, please, please. _

“Well why did you kick me out, then?” This is so much harder than he thought.

“That’s actually a really long story.” And that’s how he finds out that Sam almost died and the only way to save him was by tricking him into letting an angel possess him. And said angel needed him to leave because it was too dangerous to have him there. And Dean couldn’t do anything else except agree. Dean has regretted it since the moment he did it, and ever since the angel left, Dean’s been trying to find him and bring him back.

He wishes he could say that it’s all forgiven, he wishes the words would come out of his mouth. But after all the time he spent as a human, he doesn’t think they ever will. He tells Dean as much, and Dean says he understands. Dean invites him out to dinner and he readily accepts. He’s very hungry, hasn’t eaten in two days, in fact. He’s been trying to save his money. 

Dean takes him to a diner about a fifteen minute walk away. He refuses to get in the impala, he thinks he might start to cry if he does. He thinks he’s been to this diner before, they were very sweet and gave him some scraps when they could afford to. 

They sit down at a booth by the window, and he looks outside. He sees someone sitting outside, holding out an empty coffee cup. He wishes he had some money to spare. He looks up as he hears a waitress approach, her name is Cathy, if he remembers correctly. She smiles a big smile when she spots him, “Hey, you! I already got you down for an order of small fries, but it’d make my job a lot easier if you told me your name? Or are you still sticking to the whole ‘I don’t have a name’ gambit?”

She really is super sweet but he seriously wishes she didn’t say that in front of Dean. “Hey, can I get some fries too?” She looks at Dean all flustered, but not for the reason waitresses usually do. She nods her head and turns around to get their food. “What did she mean when she said you don't have a name?”

“I’d rather not talk about it, Dean.” Thankfully, Dean respects his privacy and lets it go. “What did you want to talk about, Dean?”

“I want you to come back to the bunker. Like, now. As soon as possible.”

“Wow, right to the point, then. I’m not gonna lie, Dean, I’ve dreamed of you saying those words a lot to me over the last couple months. I never imagined myself not saying yes.” The look of shock on Dean’s face makes him want to jump up from this seat, go to the bunker and never look back. But he can’t. “I’m not saying no, Dean. It’s just that… how do I know you won’t just kick me out when I’m not useful anymore again?”

Dean looks so hurt it makes him want to just apologize over and over and over. But he isn’t the one who should be feeling sorry right now. “I deserve that, I guess. Look Cas, I promise I will never, ever to anything that cruel to you ever again. You deserve so much better than that. You deserve to have someone love you and appreciate you and well, have someone not treat you like dirt. You belong with me, Cas. Me and Sam. And if I had it my way, you would never leave me - uh, I mean us, again.”

“Wow, I honestly don’t know what to say. Um, I appreciate it. I think I would greatly enjoy returning to the bunker with you.”

Dean smiles at him so bright, Cas’s eyes tear up a little bit. He will never be able to say the words  _ I forgive you _ , but hopefully, with time, Cas will be holy again, in whatever way he can.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! leave a comment and kudos if you enjoyed!


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